“ ABOUT A BUSHEL.” A QUAIL STORY 147 
‘‘One man walks for pleasure, another man trains to see 
how fast he can run ten miles. Betty has a splendid 
nose and can hunt all day and every day during the 
season, but she hasn’t enough speed to win in profes- 
sional competition. ”’ 
‘‘Why is'so much speed necessary in Field Trials and 
not in actual shooting?” I asked. 
‘‘Professional dog trainers are human; if speed makes 
winners they teach their dogs speed. Some of these 
speedy animals, though, turn out the finest kind of 
shooting dogs later on, but there’s no fun shooting over 
them in Field Trial form.”’ 
‘“There’s another thing,” I said. ‘‘Do you remember 
a good many years ago, the newspapers had a yarn 
that nobody could eat a quail a day for thirty days?”’ 
‘“VYes,”’ said Dad, ‘‘and there was a so-called thou- 
sand-dollar wager made that it could not be done. I saw 
a picture in a New York paper once of the winner eating 
his thirtieth quail in a restaurant with a crowd looking 
on.” 
“T’ll wager,’ I said, ‘‘that G. Dan can eat five quail 
a day for thirty days. He’s eaten five every day since 
I have been here.’’ 
‘“You’ve done pretty well at it yourself, 
Dad. 
‘‘Not so well as G. Dan,’’ I said. ‘‘Round steak 
and pork chops don’t hold a candle to quail. I have 
one for breakfast, a cold quail for lunch. Does a cold 
quail count?’’ I asked. 
“It’s a quail all right, isn’t it?’’ said Dad. 
‘Yes, Isupposeitis. Then I have two quail for dinner 
every evening, but you know I have a delicate stomach.”’ 
“That totes up four quail a day or sixty quail in 
fifteen days. If your commissary department was in 
” 
remarked 
